If we would have new knowledge, we must get us a whole world of new questions.
What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
Don’t tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and let them surprise you with their results.
It comes back to the question, whom are you writing for? Who are the readers you want? Who are the people you want to engage with the things that matter most to you? And for me, it’s people who don’t need it all spelled out because they know it, they understand it. That’s why there’s so much I can’t read because I get so exasperated. Someone starts describing the character boarding the plane and pulling the seat back. And I just want to say, “Babe, I have been downtown. I have been up in a plane. Give me some credit.”
Modern English is the Walmart of languages: convenient, huge, hard to avoid, superficially friendly, and devouring all rivals in its eagerness to expand.
A good listener is not only popular everywhere, but, after a while, he gets to know something.
The instruction we find in books is like fire. We fetch it from our neighbors, kindle it at home, communicate it to others, and it becomes the property of all.
You are never too old to be what you might have been.
They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.
One can never pay in gratitude; one can only pay ‘in kind’ somewhere else in life.